


I will never forget.

by stormthedarkcity



Series: Fictober 2018 [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Ex Zevran/Taliesen/Rinna, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormthedarkcity/pseuds/stormthedarkcity
Summary: When Taliesen catches up with him in Denerim, Zevran has to make a choice. He decides to move forward, no matter the price.





	I will never forget.

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags!

Taliesen was fast and had the advantage of number, but Zevran and his allies were stronger. When Zevran pushed his final opponent off his daggers and into the dirt, he turned to find the Warden standing over the last breathing enemy, holding a sword right under his chin. Both panting, but otherwise still.

“Zevran, do you want to take care of this one yourself?”

He walked up to them, slashing his daggers through the air to rid them of some of the blood.

The Crow on the ground was in bad shape. One of his arms was soaked through in blood, laying at an unnatural angle over his chest. The other one was trembling slightly, barely supporting the weight of his torso.

“Taliesen.”

The Warden removed his sword and stepped back, leaving Zevran’s vision when he crouched. All his attention was for the wounded human on the ground. He was looking up at him with defiance and bloody lips.

“Taliesen, I…” he repeated, not sure where to start.

The man coughed and winced, before shaking his head. “You’ve lost your mind, Zevran.” His voice was hoarse and low, but he spoke clearly. “You owe _everything_ to the Crows. They’re the reason neither of us became whores like your mother.” He hit the dirt with his good fist and leaned closer to Zevran. “We were so close to climbing up ranks, we’ve sacrificed so much.”

Zevran shook his head, teeth gritted. “_We_ didn’t. _You_ did.”

Taliesen’s lips curled into a mad smile. He grasped Zevran’s forearm with his wounded hand, bloody fingers leaving wet smears on his skin. “And you let me.” He said with a vicious kind of pleasure. “You _cheered_ for me, Zevran. Remember? You holding her arms, laughing, while I sank my blade in Rinna’s hea–”

“Keep her name out of your mouth, Taliesen.” Zevran warned in a growl. “It does not belong there any longer.”

“She doesn’t matter. Forget about her.”

Zevran couldn’t bear it any longer. He flipped his dagger in his hand and set its point against that weakness Taliesen’s armour had, right over his fourth rib. He had a scar there, from the attack that had made the tear years ago. Taliesen kept saying he’d get it repaired later, and adding, ‘besides, you love that scar.’ It was true. Zevran knew how that scar felt under his tongue. He had loved it once, loved every inch of Taliesen’s skin, scarred or not.

Not anymore.

The blade sank without resistance through the damaged leather and into Taliesen’s lung.

Taliesen retched under him, gurgling and struggling to breathe. His fingernails dug hard into Zevran’s forearm.

“Listen to me,” Zevran said in a murmur. “I have mourned Rinnala. I have learnt from her death that I should trust my gut over my orders. But I…” he twisted the blade, making Taliesen cough up blood. “will _never_ forget.”

Taliesen stared at him with wide eyes, his eyelashes wet and sticking in clumps. Zevran suddenly vividly remembered kissing those eyelids with reverence, once. He swallowed bile.

Pierced lung was an ugly death. So Zevran pulled the dagger out of his ribs, and stuck it in one swift motion into his heart.

Taliesen’s features changed from pain to surprise, and then to nothing at all. His hand let go of Zevran, dropping heavily into the dust, and his eyes lost focus.

Zevran stood up.

“Let’s go.”


End file.
